How does an earnest white ally curb his toxic self-righteousness?
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The Pastor Panel
In 2016 I visited a church where the sermon was presented in an innovative panel format. The panel had three speakers, all pastors. One speaker was a woman in her fifties (we’ll call her Kay). The two others were both men in their thirties.
I was attending this service with a particularly outspoken friend, Jessie. Jessie was just out of graduate school where she had earned her master’s degree in social work.
After the service, Jessie was outraged.
Jessie felt that the two men had taken up “too much space. They had dominated the message, hogged the microphone, and erased the presence of an accomplished female pastor.”
It was sexism. Plain and simple.
Jessie is a great teacher in my life. I am grateful for the perspectives she helps me to see. After hearing her out, I agreed with her observations. What we had seen was pure sexism. Something had to be done. After all, I was a hypocrite and not much of a true progressive if I didn’t speak up — right? The only thing needed for the triumph of evil is for good people to say nothing. Silence = Violence.
Right? Right?!
On the Warpath
I decided to exercise some of my white male privilege in the name of JUSTICE. I composed a forcefully worded email to the church leadership, calling out their moral shortcomings.
But right before I clicked “send,” I decided to check in on their website. I wanted to make sure I had the spellings of everyone’s name correct before I dropped the proverbial hammer-of-truth on them.
That was when I realized: I had screwed up.
While reviewing the staff profiles, I realized that Pastor Kay was the chief leadership pastor.
Chief. Leadership. Pastor.
Kay was these two male pastors’ boss.
More than their supervisor, Kay was their mentor, spiritual director, and teacher. Digging deeper, I recognized Kay was an accomplished and talented preacher with hundreds of powerful sermons available online. Next, I found articles and blogs about these two male pastors. Under Kay’s leadership, they had been successful role models for other men, presenting a version of their faith refreshingly free of sexism and misogyny. It was a version of supportive, humble masculinity that has been missing in Christianity for centuries.
In the panel I had witnessed, these men had not been erasing Pastor Kay. They were her protégés, her students. As the chief pastor, she was the one holding the “power” that Sunday morning. Like a good leader, she was equipping and lifting up others. She had been making space for them to develop their skills as speakers. Better yet, these two men were modeling a dynamic where a successful woman could lead men, and those men, in turn, could model deference to her. A great example to set for the congregation.
This was great progress.
How had I missed it, and what did that say about me?
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The Critical Problem with Critical Theory
I LOVE Critical Theory. If it were a person, I would want to marry it. But like any marriage, I have to recognize my partner has a few shortcomings.
What is Critical Theory? Quite simply, it’s the philosophy that is foundational to the progressive social movements and reforms of the past half century. Critical Theory looks at society through a lens of power, specifically who has it and who doesn’t. It separates people into oppressors and oppressed. This can be highly valuable when we consider race, gender, class, or an intersection of them.
As a framework, Critical Theory has given us effective tools for confronting society’s inequalities and correcting them. This dialogue has provided a counter to the traditional dominant discourse.
In short, Critical Theory has provided an intellectual framework to improve the lives of millions.
So Critical Theory works. It’s great. Now, if I point out a few weaknesses in Critical Theory, I by no means wish to undermine the movements it has powered. Not. At. All. We have to remember: no theory is perfect. Even our theories of gravity are incomplete! That doesn’t mean we start doubting it exists.
The legitimacy of the movements Critical Theory has given momentum to, like anti-racism and feminism, is not in question. I only wish to strengthen those movements and the philosophy underpinning them by providing constructive reflection.
So, with that disclaimer, when does Critical Theory fall short?
Starting with the End in Mind
Well, the trouble with Critical Theory is that it starts with the conclusion in mind.
We assume there is oppression.
We look for it.
Then we see it.
More often than not, we’re usually right. There is truth in those observations because oppression is REAL. What follows this identification of oppression is usually a calling “out,” or more gentle calling “in.” Whatever the case, we — the virtuous — put on our capes and provide a corrective to them — the offenders. In a perfect scenario they receive the feedback, reform, and continue the march towards equity.
For those of us with, ahem capes, the byproduct of providing this corrective is that we boost our own sense of belonging and esteem. In providing this “helpful and loving” correction, we reinforce our own progressive credentials and social standing. This reassures us of our own “in-group” status — the in-group in question being the “good guys,” the progressives,” those on the “right side of history.”
You know, the heroes.
And we all want to be with them, right? Avengers assemble and all that.
My experience with Pastor Kay and her mentees is illustrative of this. Having been conditioned by our reading, our training, our peer groups to recognize and call out oppression, and socially rewarded for calling it out, that was exactly what my friend Jessie and I saw. So we got ready to ACT in the name of justice as we have been trained.
But if I’m honest, my ego was caught up in it too. I felt a sense of reassurance, relief even. If I could identify sexism in these two men, if I could call it out, if I could come to Pastor Kay’s “rescue,” then I definitely wasn’t a knuckle-dragging male chauvinist on the wrong side of history.
I was not Thanos, but Captain America.
Phew. Awesome, I could still be fitted for my cape.
But this is exactly the problem with a lot of activism these days. Outward displays of solidarity do not equal inner transformation, much less true social reform. By immediately reading Kay as a victim and her protégés as her oppressors, then leaping to action without contemplation, I wasn’t dismantling injustice at all. I was virtue signaling.
Where Did I Go So Wrong?
So the email I would have sent would have been self-righteous and self-indulgent. It also would have been a waste of time for the pastors. So once I realized I wasn’t qualified to police others, I turned to the one person I am qualified to police:
Me.
I needed to start with the progress I had failed to see. Why did I so quickly assign Pastor Kay the role of victim? Why hadn’t it even occurred to me that she was the one in charge? Despite what I professed to believe, was there some part of me invested in her being “oppressed,” so I could play savior?
The answers ain’t pretty, friends.
My actions were bolstering my ego at the expense of others. It was no secret I would have been placing myself on a moral high ground over these people whom I was so “graciously” correcting. One might even argue my actions were simply creating an inversion of the exact kind of ingroup-outgroup dynamic I, allegedly, was committed to destroying. I wanted to elevate myself as a woke person on the side of the oppressed and put down others not as far along in the same journey.
It was still a hierarchy, with me over others.
Not a good look. I had successfully hidden a “bad” motivation beneath a “good” one.
The Cost of Getting it Wrong
“But Ted, what about the times when you and Jessie would have been right in your reading of the situation?” you might ask.
It’s valid. There are MANY times when folks in my position would have been correct. Maybe 8 out of 10 times what you see on the surface is correct. There are chauvinist, sexist, racist pigs who need to be called out. When those guilty parties push back and say: “No Ted and Jessie, you’re being oversensitive,” or “No, it’s not really sexist,” they are basically gaslighting. So go ahead, call them in or call them out, whatever is appropriate.
But take a breath first, to make sure you have a correct reading. Because there is a cost when you get it wrong. Aside from wasting others’ time, by attacking our allies we delegitimize the movements we mean to support. We also give ammunition to those bad actors who wish to undermine the movements we are trying to support.
The Tucker Carlsons, the Jeanine Pirros, and the Laura Ingrams of the world love it when we progressives line up into circular firing squads, e.g., Adele’s hair controversy or University of Southern California firing a professor for using a Mandarin word that sounded like a slur but wasn’t. Opponents to progress will amplify our friendly fire, seizing on our miscues and using them to delegitimize the broader message. Worse than that, it leaves us allies alienated from one another — when we should be forming alliances instead.
So, in the end, I’d probably make a terrible Avenger. I can’t even do a good job as a member of the scold patrol. The antidote to the circular firing squads, for me at least, seems to be taking a deep breath and an adult dose of humility. If we all could do that, we can avoid empowering defenders of the status quo and free up those fighting for change.
After all, we’ve already got enough police problems, without me appointing myself as the morality police.
